Snapshots
by HotaruGFC
Summary: A series of one-shots based on prompts from Inktober 2019. Various characters and relationships will be explored. Mostly character studies. May include some characters or references to Quartet Knights and/or Phantom Knights games. Chapter titles are the prompts
1. Ring

The ringing of the bells was something he couldn't quite get used to. The different pitches. The patterns of sounds. And then the incessant gong gong gong announcing the hours.

The sounds seemed constant, ringing in his mind long after the sounds had stopped traveling through the air.

Even now, fourteen years later, the ringing sent shivers down his back. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but the ringing was one reason he spent so much time out training when he was younger. The silence of the forest and the open spaces between towns had been his solace for many years. The silence of the area had driven him to explore the ramshackle home seemingly abandoned in the middle of nowhere. The silence had led him to his first squad member and to his home base. And as far as he was concerned, this silent sanctuary would be his until the day he died.

Only then, when his spirit fled his body, would he consent to the ringing of the bells.

He had tried to explain his uneasiness to Julius years ago, but he was not able to find the right words. He was a child then-a mature for his age, ruffian of a child, but a child nonetheless. Explaining had been difficult. He did not know if he could explain it even now.

But the bells, aside from their loud never-ending noise, brought up memories, thoughts he found difficult to handle. Things were much easier when they stayed hidden, buried. The bells with which he was familiar were rung for only two purposes-danger and death.

The sounds were not quite the same, but the gong of the large bell marking the hours sparked memories within him, none of which were happy.

Still, his mind replayed the sound hollow tinny sound whenever the bells chimed, bringing forth remembrances of attacks on his village, landslides and tsunami, times he and his siblings had been forced to shelter, and times they had been told to flee. Funerals too sprang from his memory-friends and family long lost and perhaps best forgotten.

The bells brought him heartache he could not explain to anyone. None of them had quite lost what he had lost. None of them could understand.

And so he ran from them. He hid away, secure in the silence of the rundown old house he called home. Perhaps silence was not the right word, but the raucous voices of his squad, his family far surpassed the constant ringing of the bells and the memories they sparked.

Yes.

He would take the laughter and yelling any day over the ringing of bells.


	2. Mindless

"Honestly, Mimosa..." Noelle stopped her forward march and turned toward her cousin as the two girls played in the royal gardens. "You can be so mindless sometimes." She placed her hands on her hips and tried on her best scowl as she looked down at the red head who stared at the ground where she had fallen. The other girl's shoulders shook slightly at the rebuke and Noelle sighed. She walked over to her fallen cousin and the only one she had ever been able to count as a friend and held out her hand.

"Here. Let me help." She gripped Mimosa's hand tightly once she had placed it in hers and she pulled with all of the strength her young body could muster. Noelle willed for Mimosa to stand beside her, to rise from the fall.

"Thanks, Noelle. I... I was fine. Really." Mimosa sniffed as she dusted dirt and debris from her dress. "I would have gotten up eventually."

"Had you been paying attention to where you were going, you wouldn't have fallen in the first place." Noelle pointed out, her voice curt and sharp. She bit her lip at the harsh sound of it.

Mimosa nodded, but Noelle's sharp eyes saw the drops falling to the ground between them.

"Are you alright?" She placed her hand on her cousin's shoulder. "Any scrapes or bruises?"

Mimosa shook her head and met Noelle's concerned gaze with tear-filled eyes.

"No. I'm alright. And you're right. Even Kirsch says I'm a little ditsy sometimes. That it's not fitting for a royal to be so-what's the word he used?-flaky? Flighty?"

Mimosa shrugged. Noelle looked at her cousin, her friend for a long moment as Mimosa could no longer hold back the tears streaming down her face. Aside from the tears themselves, however, Mimosa was the image of perfect calm. Noelle knew the calmness was just an act, for she too had been schooled in appearances, and trained in how to maintain the quiet confidence a royal needed.

And yet, she hated seeing the mask on Mimosa's face.

She hated it as much as she hated wearing it herself.

She reached out and wrapped her arms around her cousin feeling her own eyes fill with tears as she held Mimosa tightly. Mimosa sagged against her and Noelle sank to the ground with her weight until they both sat on the grassy lawn. She knew they were likely to be reprimanded if they were caught. While the garden was not off limits exactly, the caretaker was particular about the grass. Noelle never understood why.

But now, the two girls were safe, secure in each other's embrace as the stress and requirements hoisted onto their small six year old bodies and minds gushed from them both in a river of tears. They hugged and they cried until the tears stopped flowing. And when they let each other go, they did so not because the pain had fled, but because they could cry no longer.

They sat instead on the grass, picking at the narrow green blades, unable or unwilling to move. Mimosa stripped a blade of grass absently as Noelle rubbed her hand over the softness of the vegetation.

"Kirsch took me to see the lower rings yesterday." Mimosa said breaking the silence.

"Oh?" Noelle's heart beat faster and she fought the jealousy which had sprung up. Her own siblings never took her anywhere or did anything with her. Aside from steal her toys and call her a mistake.

"Yeah. He showed me why royals are better. Well, that's what he said anyway."

In the few actual conversations she had been allowed with any of her siblings, Noelle had heard similar statements about being royalty. About how it made them special.

"What did you see?"

"People. Just people. Some kids like us."

Noelle didn't know what she had expected, but she hadn't quite expected that answer.

"Kirsch said they were bad people, but they just seemed like people to me." Mimosa stretched out on the grass and looked up at the blue sky. Noelle pulled her knees to her chest and laid her head on them.

Noelle had never been outside of the upper ring of the city, had only rarely been outside of the palace. She wished she could see these people for herself, to see if they were good or bad. Her own brother had called the people in the lower rings scum, worthless, mindless, but he also called her those things as well. Noelle wondered if she would have been happier with the rest of the mindless scum.

"They might have done bad things, but I'm sure they had a reason." Mimosa said as she gazed at the clouds overhead. "They looked like they cared for each other."

Noelle wondered what Solid would think if he heard Mimosa talk now. Would he correct her, convince her they were as mindless, as worthless as he said?

As Mimosa spoke more about her experiences, Noelle came to the conclusion that people everywhere were people. Sure, sometimes they might be mindless, but that did not mean they were heartless.

No matter what, Noelle told herself. No matter how mindless others thought her to be, she would never, ever be heartless.


	3. Bait

The pudding sat glistening on the plate. The aroma filled the air. He wanted to take a big bite of it, to savor the creaminess of it, to let the flavor dance on his tongue.

But a weird silence in the house made him turn away.

He looked over to the sitting area at the worn out couches clustered in a way which might have fostered conversation had anyone been in the mood.

"Magna, aren't you going to eat your pudding?" Longing filled Charmy's voice as she looked at the untouched desert. When he glanced at her, dribbles of saliva clung to the corners of her lips. He glanced back to the couch where his dearest friend, for a long time his only friend, sat.

Something had been very wrong with Luck the last few days, and he was starting to get worried. The fight-crazy blond had not tried picking a fight with him even once since everything had gone back to normal, since the sentencing, since their exile had been announced.

Magna picked up the plate with the carefully formed jiggly pudding sitting on it. He knew from experience it would be tasty. He just hoped it would be enough bait to lure out the old Luck.

"Not right now, Charmy." He walked over to where the sullen lightning mage sat and placed the plate on a table between the couches before he sat down himself, across from Luck. "I think I'll save it for later."

Magna leaned back against the sofa and smirked at Luck.

He watched as Luck's eyes darted from wherever his mind had gone to the pudding. He saw Luck lick his lips quickly before his eyes flicked upwards. Magna's smile widened ever so slightly, daring Luck as their eyes met.

Luck's gaze returned to the pudding on the table and his crazy smile split his face.

Hook, line, and sinker...


	4. Freeze

He slipped out of the window and she followed him. The rest of the gang followed as well as they ran down the maze of alleyways in an effort to escape into the night. He ran silent in both his words and his movements, only his labored breathing could be heard as he pushed his body to the limits.

He ducked into the shadow of a doorway and looked back down the path they had come. His gang ran past him making their escape. He saw a pair of guards at the end of the alley stop in the bright light of a lantern on the main road. He could hear loud angry voices echoing off the walls as the guards looked around before splitting up. One came toward them, hurrying down the alleyway.

He reached for the sword he wore at his waist, but a hand stopped him from drawing it. He gasped from the suddenness of the touch. He had not sensed anyone beside him.

"Don't you think it would be worse if there was a fight, Yami?" Karna whispered with a soft giggle right next to his ear. In the few months since she had joined the gang, she had made herself a sort of unofficial lieutenant, always at his back. Sometimes she was the voice of reason, and sometimes she was the most unreasonable.

"What do you think he will do if he catches us?" Yami hissed. He clenched his sword hand into a tight fist, wishing his blade was in it.

The guard crept closer, peeking into every shadow. Yami risked a look backward down the alley, making sure the rest of the gang had escaped.

"There are other ways to elude a guard, you know." Her voice was rich and deep. She touched him again, this time on the shoulder.

The guard was almost upon them.

Karna pulled him into the shadowy alcove and pressed her body against his. She turned him so their faces were masked by the darkness as she kissed him.

Yami froze as if he were made of stone. He couldn't move, couldn't even breath. He could feel the guard approach, glance their way, and move on. After a long moment, Karna released him.

"You could have tried to enjoy it, you know."

Yami panted as his lungs regained their knowledge of breathing.

"I thought I told you already. I don't like older women."

He couldn't see it, but he could feel Karna roll her eyes at him.

"Whatever. He's gone now anyway. We should catch up to the others."


	5. Build

"Can you imagine it, Secre?"

"Imagine what, My Prince?" Secre Swallowtail always asked for clarification. She dared not to assume anything when it came to the young man she served. He had a way of surprising her.

Though today she had a feeling she knew what he was thinking about.

"The future. A place where people can live together in peace and harmony. Where it doesn't matter who they are or where they come from. Where the type of magic they use is welcomed-no matter how strange it might seem."

Until that moment, she watched him gazing at the sky as they lay side-by-side on the tower rooftop. At that moment, however, he looked at her. His eyes were filled with stars, as they often were when he talked about his dream-dazzling and optimistic.

At first she had wondered if those dazzling eyes held more behind them, but over the years in which she had grown to know the Prince, she had discovered, and learned to accept the single-tract nature of his mind. He would never look at her like that and only see her. The realization had pained her at first, until she accepted her station.

He was the crown prince of the kingdom.

She was his servant, given to him because no one else had wanted her.

Secre smiled. Seeing him happy had a way of cheering her up.

"I can see it, My Prince."

And she could for he had described it to her in vivid detail nearly every day since she had come into his service.

"We can build it together." His gaze turned back to the white puffy clouds streaking across the blue sky. "I could never do it without you."

Secre watched the sky herself, sighing softly, knowing he did not mean how he sounded.

"It's going to be beautiful. A bright and shining future for everyone."

"Of course."

They lay in silence for a moment before he sat upright in a jolt.

"We should get to work then." He began to scramble down the room to where he could make the short drop onto the parapet and then enter his tower lab. Secre watched the sky a moment longer, only stirring when his head poked back up over the edge of the roof.

"You coming? I forgot I have a... thing later."

Secre pushed herself up to sitting and then crouched as she scurried from the roof at her Prince's command.

"What thing? I don't remember anything being on your schedule." She said as she landed on the narrow walkway beside him.

He shifted nervously before darting into the door.

"It's nothing really. Just something personal."

He had been keeping more and more secrets from her as of late. She knew he was sneaking out of the palace along with his sister, but she did not know where they were going. She had thought about following him before, but she feared she would be assuming too much by doing so.

Secre shook her head and followed him into the workshop. He was already tinkering away on some device or another when she joined him. He did not even look up as he asked her to fetch a tool.

He may not have looked at her, but he did talk to her, waxing poetic once more about the future he wanted to build, or how he would change so much when he became king.

Secre believed him, or more accurately, she believed in him. If anyone could bring about the future of which he dreamed, it would be her Prince.

A chime sounded and he looked up in shock.

"I'm going to be late." He stripped himself of his tools and protective gear and rushed out of the room, leaving Secre behind once again.

"But we can understand each other. When I am the Wizard King, that's the kind of kingdom I want to create-one where people can all get along and be happy, no matter where they're from, if they're commoners or nobles, elves, humans, even if they have no magic at all."

The words, spoken once more after so long, woke something inside of her, something long laid dormant. A spark of consciousness, of understanding, of remembrance.

And Secre-no, Nero-knew. She knew this boy might just have the power to do what he said, to build the future her Prince had long dreamt of and for which he had lost everything.

Maybe.

Maybe he would be the one to build bridges over the gaps which separated so many.

Maybe he would be the light in the darkness leading toward the harmony her Prince had sought.

Maybe.

Maybe this time would be different.


	6. Husky

He certainly caused a commotion when he entered the room. The other magic knights looked at him suspiciously, and he looked back at them just the same. He was dressed in black, though the man beside him wore a light gray as he clapped him on the shoulder and smiled at him.

Charlotte's breath caught as she looked at him. Tall, swarthy, husky, dangerous. The air about him spoke volumes. From the way he stood to the unruliness of his hair and dress, he was everything the rest of the men in the room were not. He must be the foreigner everyone had warned her about, the one the captain of the Gray Deer had taken under his wing and brought into the Magic Knights against the advice from the rest of the captains.

He certainly stood out in the crowd.

Charlotte bit her lips and forced herself to look away. She took a cup as it was pressed into her hand by one of her squadmates. She immediately regretted the sip she took, but she smiled through her distaste and tried to focus on the conversation around her.

But her mind kept returning to him. She glanced to where he had been only to notice he had moved.

To be expected, she thought as she tried to look around the room for him without drawing attention to herself.

"Oh, My Dear, it looks like you have barely touched your drink."

Charlotte did not even bother to force a smile as the short, squat man approached her.

"Lady Roselei, wasn't it? What impressive accomplishments for one so young." The fat man continued in his attempt to strike up a conversation. Charlotte frowned. She was used to the attempts to woo her by now, but they all meant nothing. They were all talk with nothing to back up their words.

And this man was a different kind of husky as well. Not that Charlotte put much stock in physical appearances, but the man looked as if he had never had to work for anything in his life.

And everything coming out of his mouth seemed to back up her assessment.

She continued to look for him, her gaze darting around Mr. Unwelcome's head. Eventually, she found him, sitting alone in a corner. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. Slowly, Mr. Unwelcome took the hint and wandered off for easier prey.

She sipped her drink every so often.

Should she go talk to him?

Part of her wanted to. He looked so alone, so lost in his little corner.

"Ugh. Why did Captain Julius have to bring him here? It's bad enough we have to put up with commoners, but now we have foreigners in our midst?"

"I hear even his own squad doesn't like him much, that he does most of his missions alone."

"And look at him... he's so... grotesque with all those muscles."

She turned at the comment to a pair of Silver Eagle brigade members.

"Be that as it may, I've heard he has earned the most stars of all the other members in his brigade combined," Charlotte interjected with the information she overheard earlier at the commendation ceremony.

One of the pair rolled their eyes at her.

"I never expected a Rose to come to a man's defense. Aren't you breaking some sort of code?"

"Just because we support women's achievements doesn't necessarily mean we ignore the achievements of men. Anyone who has earned the right to be here through their actions deserves to be in attendance."

The pair blinked at her. One of them chuckled.

"I guess you like them big and ugly, huh?"

"What?" Charlotte looked at him in surprised confusion.

"Your men. You must like them to be big enough to hold you down. How crude."

Charlotte's mouth fell open in disgust.

She thought nothing of the sort! She had no romantic interest in anyone, much less in a muscle-bound, socially-awkward foreigner who couldn't even properly navigate a party, no matter how many stars he had earned on his own!

The pair laughed as they walked away, leaving Charlotte staring at them in anger. Her cheeks felt warm and her hand had balled into a fist at her side. She gripped the goblet until her knuckles turn white. Her jaw locked up in a clenched sort of pain.

She took a deep breath, free from their insinuations and felt her fingers and jaw relax.

"They don't know anything." She muttered, taking another sip.

When she looked over her glass, she caught his eyes for a brief moment before he looked away. She closed her eyes and sighed. Turning away from where she could easily see him, she found her way back to her sisters-in-arms. She tried to engage herself once more into their conversation, but her mind kept cycling back to what the Silver Eagles had said.

With his strong, husky physique, she wondered if he would give good hugs.


	7. Enchanted

"Remind me why I'm here again?" Yami asked with a sigh once he felt the entire room go silent and the eyes of everyone fall on him.

"You've been promoted, Yami. You should celebrate. Maybe get to know some of your fellows?" Julius patted him on the shoulder but his attention was on the crowd.

Yami sighed and rolled his eyes.

"You could try to have some fun." Julius prodded, poking Yami in the back.

"Yeah, right." Yami moved into the room and away from the doorway even though he wanted to turn around, snap Julius's finger in half and then slip out unnoticed. The fact that breaking Julius's finger and slipping away unnoticed would likely be mutually exclusive did not dawn on him. He wanted only to escape.

As Julius wandered into the crowd mingling, Yami found a quiet empty table tucked away in the corner of the room. He sat with his back to the wall and waved a young man with a tray of goblets over. He took two of the drinks from the tray before waving the server away. He downed one cup quickly and sipped at the other more slowly, letting the flavor of the wine roll around his tongue.

"Well," He muttered to himself. "At least the wine is good."

He finished the cup and was about to hunt down another when a conversation grabbed his attention. He could not easily make out the words from across the room, but a few choice phrases had struck him. A pair of knights from the Silver Eagles were making comments to a young woman from the Blue Rose. The pair seemed to mock the woman, or they had otherwise struck a chord as Yami saw the woman react in both shock and anger.

Eventually, the pair seemed to grow tired of their teasing and they left the woman staring after them in seething rage.

Yami could not take his eyes off of her. The firm set of her stance, the way her hand gripped into a fist... The woman was a fighter, he was certain. She had stood her ground against their onslaught and she was left standing while they backed away.

She was powerful, beautiful.

So beautiful.

Her hair shimmered like golden thread in the light of the chandeliers hanging above their heads. He couldn't remember seeing anything quite like it. Everything about her screamed perfection. Everything she was illustrated the ideal he had heard others mention in the past.

He was entranced by her strength, enchanted by her beauty. He couldn't help his staring.

Until her eyes met his from the other side of the room.

Or he thought they met. He had felt a jolt of recognition shoot through him when she looked his way.

He swallowed hard and forced his attention from her.

As he examined the pattern on the table cloth, and avoided her eyes, Yami felt his breathing and heart rate slow, though he did not noticed their heightening. He closed his eyes and waved down another server as he took a deep slow breath. Taking another pair of goblets, he sipped on the high quality wine as his eyes scanned the room once more.

She had disappeared in the crowd and was now likely hiding within a sea of blue. He thought he glimpsed the golden hair in among the throng of people, but everytime he tried to look at her, she seemed to disappear once more.

Yami sighed and drained the pair of cups.

But the thought nagging at the back of his mind begged to know if her eyes were brown or blue. At the distance he could not tell.


	8. Frail

"How are you doing today?"

I lift my head at the sound and open my eyes. The action has become easier over the last few years, but I still have my moments when even the simplest of movements are draining. But Asta's smiling face never fails to cheer me up on even the worst of days.

"I'm... alright..." I want to talk faster, to make my mouth move as fast as my mind, but I can't. Not today. Not yet. I had been growing weaker over the last several days when I had been stabilized and getting stronger for years before. I knew something had happened. The mana in the house had dropped drastically.

And now, looking at Asta, I see I am not the only one suffering. His arms are bandaged and held in a sling to keep him from moving them. Not that he didn't try to anyway.

"What... happened...?" My voice cracked and Asta moved to my side. He reached for a pitcher of water only to stop. I didn't like the dark cloud which passed over his face as he brought his arms to rest against his chest.

"I, uh, well, I hurt my arms." His voice held a sadness I could not imagine coming from him. "The doc says..." He forced a smile as he looked at me, but I could tell something darker lived behind it. "The doc says I should be fine with plenty of rest."

He was lying.

"But enough about me. Are you alright? We were gone for a while." He used his foot to drag a chair beside my bed. I leveraged myself up onto my elbows and eventually up to a seated position.

"I... said... I'm... alright... A... little... tired... but... I'll... be... o...kay..."

"That's good." He sighed. He started telling me about everything which had happened, the places they had gone, the wonders they had seen. He always shared such amazing stories about his adventures. I could hardly imagine the worlds he described. The people they met sounded fascinating. I always wanted to meet people. Even those they fought captured my imagination. I would have liked to help them in the battle.

And then Asta turned quiet for a moment. His gaze seemed to turn inwards and then he looked at his arms.

But the moment was fleeting before his cheery self returned. He told me about the friends he had met and how he ran into his brother, Yuno while they were in the capital. He rambled about how strong Yuno had gotten, but also about how amazing Finral and Charmy were in helping the citizens.

"I... wish... I... could... be... there... with... every... one... I... wish... they... knew... how... much... they... mean... to... me..."

"You will be able to tell them one day. Soon, I'm sure. You were starting to get stronger. I can tell because the base was changing more."

My heart warmed and my face ached from the effort in my muscles as a small uncontrollable smile spread on my lips. To have someone notice brought me more joy than I could find words to describe.

"May... be... you... are... right..."

"Of course I am." He nodded his head confidently and then glanced at his arms. "We're Black Bulls. We're stubborn to a fault. We don't quit; we don't give up. You'll find a way to get out of that bed and join us. I know it."

"And... you... will... find... a... way... to... fix... your... arms..."

He stopped, blinked, and looked at me as if I had surprised him. The room was dim, but I could see the blush on his cheeks.

"I... You're right. I will. Because I'll never give up."

We sat in comfortable silence for a long moment as the birds called to roost in the rafters. I watched the patterns of their flight and how they all settled into their fixed places. The only bird which did not join them was the one perched on Asta's head. That bird, Nero as Asta had called it, never fit in with the other birds. That bird was different, strange. It watched me with intelligence as I had never seen. It looked at me like no other bird. It looked at me like Asta did.

"Well, I gotta go. I'm supposed to go take care of Captain Yami's animals before they start trying to eat each other. I'm glad you're doing well, Henry."

"Thank... you... Asta... for... vi... si... ting..."

He nodded as he stood. He gave me a brilliant flash of a smile-a smile filled with hope and promise before he left and night fell in my room.

In the darkness, I always felt my frailness the most keenly. For years, I felt helpless in the dark, but now, with the strength I am gathering from the precious friends who have been gathered within the walls of my abode, and with Asta's strength and resilience, I knew I had nothing to fear in the darkness.

My only hope?

To one day be able to repay all those who have sustained me without even knowing I am here.

One day.

Soon, perhaps.

As Asta said.


	9. Pattern

Charlotte was sipping her morning tea and reviewing an incident report when a shrill voice cut through her focus.

"Sis! I heard it was your birthday, so I got you something!"

Charlotte groaned. Her birthday didn't mean much. Just one more day of fighting the curse, one more day of failure to overcome it completely. She sighed, wondering if she would ever be truly free of it.

But Sol's excitement as she placed the package before her on the table as she sat down on the other side made Charlotte put down the paper in her hand.

"Go on. Open it!" The young woman vibrated in her seat. Her fingers drummed on the tabletop. Charlotte took another sip from her cup before placing it on the saucer next to her paperwork. She took the package carefully in her hands. The box was not small, but neither was it terribly large. The paper surrounding it had a delicate pattern on an otherwise brown surface, and it was tied up with a blue cord.

"Sol, you didn't have to get me anything." Charlotte began to untie the string and carefully remove the wrapping after Sol's excited stare wore her down. "I never really celebrate my birthday, anyway." Not since the last time with her family anyway. Not since the curse.

"But I saw this and just knew I had to get it for you. I mean, it's not much, but I hope you like it."

Charlotte folded the paper which had surrounded the box and then pulled back the lid. Inside lay the ugliest pattern she had ever seen. She swallowed hard and fought to control the expression on her face. She hoped she had not frowned. Sol still looked at her with more excitement than Charlotte ever thought anyone could muster.

Charlotte forced herself to smile.

"Oh. Wow." She lifted the object out of the box. The texture was softer than she had expected. Despite the hideous interplay of blue, orange and red, the fabric which made up the item was rather fine indeed. Finding one end, Charlotte pulled on the fabric gently.

Sol gasped.

"Wait! You might break it!"

Something was hidden within the folds of the ugly fabric?

Charlotte took more care as she unspooled the cloth with its regular pattern of orange triangles with red circles scattered across them alternating with bands of solid blue. The cloth was in a long narrow strip like a scarf. The soft warmth of the fabric also reminded her of a scarf.

Eventually, the long strip was free and Charlotte saw the most exquisite glass sculpture glistening in the morning light. The rose was tipped with gold on its edges, and the petals were a rich blue.

Charlotte took a deep breath as the beauty of the piece struck her.

"Sol, it's beautiful. Thank you."

Sol grinned from ear to ear.

"Glad you like it. Sorry, it was wrapped in that ugly scarf, but it was all I had to protect it. My dad has a weird obsession with giving me clothes with food on it."

Charlotte tore her eyes from the glass rose and looked at the scarf once again. The triangles, she now saw, were not true triangles. They were slices of pizza. Charlotte chuckled as she picked up the patterned scarf and wrapped the glass rose within it once more.

"It's fine, Sol. I love it. I truly do. Thank you."

Sol nodded. A voice called to her from across the room and the young woman scurried away.

Charlotte picked up the report she had been reading and tried to get back to work.

But she could not keep her eyes off of the garish pattern in the box.


	10. Snow

The young boy sat quietly in the snow. He hadn't known what he had done, but his brother had kicked him out of the hovel they called home. And so he sat, crying, as the snow fell lightly around him. He could still hear his brother raging inside and was partly thankful he was not in the way of his brother's fists or his brother's mud magic. His brother scared him when he was this angry. And so, the boy sat as the snow collected around him. He took some of the soft frozen snowfall and packed it together into a small ball. Once he set the ball down, he created another ball and then another. He stacked them one on top of the other, ignoring the chill in his small body and the numbness in his fingertips.

"Hello, friend." He whispered to the small figure of snow he had built. The small figure moved and looked up at him. He giggled and clapped as it looked at the stubby arms he had given it. The figure seemed to smile up at him.

"You will be my friend, won't you?"

The figure looked at him in curiosity. The boy felt a flutter of fear as he waited for a response, hoping against hope the snow creature could tell what he wanted and needed most. After a moment, the figure looked down at the ground and the boy felt his hopes and dreams fall until the new being began to shift toward him.

"Oh!" The boy cried out as the figure moved. "I can't believe I forgot." He picked up the snowman ever so gently in one hand and balled some of the snow in the other into two tiny oval shapes. He stuck the shapes on the bottom of the snowman's body and placed it down once more on the ground. The figure looked down at its new feet and wriggled its toes-first on one foot, then on the other. It seemed to consider the motion carefully. Satisfied, the figure looked up at the boy and smiled before shuffling toward him, more steadily this time.

The boy's heart soared.

"Should we make some more friends?" He made the snowfall more heavily with the simple magic he could use. He scooped the newly fallen snow and went to work, still not understanding how the little creature had come to life in the first place.

After several minutes, he was surrounded by friends made of snow. Each one was unique, made of different shapes and sizes. Each wore a different expression on its face.

And yet, none of them moved.

The small figure next to him tilted its head toward him. It seemed to ask what was wrong, or at least that's what he thought it was thinking.

"I don't know. I don't know how you woke up."

An icy touch on his hand made the boy look down at the figure. Its tiny, nubby hands patted his in an effort to reassure him.

The boy took a deep breath.

"I'll figure it out." He nodded to himself and the snowman patted him once more. He reached out for one of the lifeless snow beings, wondering if he could will it to life with his touch.

"Hey, Neige!" The voice echoed off the walls of the buildings nearby. The boy froze for a moment as a larger boy with dark hair scurried around the corner of a building. The larger boy skid to a halt, but slipped and fell as he hit the patch of snow.

"Neige, what are you doing? Making all this snow is dangerous." The larger boy stood up brushing the white dust from his pants.

"You... you smooshed them." Neige could not help the tears welling up in his eyes or the sob teetering in his voice. "Baro, you... you smooshed them all." He looked around at the misshapen lumps of snow scattered around him and the deep gouge left by his brother. He gasped and looked down at where the small snowman had been. It has been right next to him, patting him encouragingly on the leg as he had built. He could still see remnants of its tiny body lying still among the snow. As he picked up the bits of his friend, he could no longer hold back.

The tears were hot, like lava across his frigid skin. He wailed as they fell on what remained of the tiny snowman, melting it further with their heat.

"Neige..." Baro sighed, his annoyance turning to pity. He sat on the cold wet ground across from his brother. "I'm sorry, Neige. I didn't mean to."

Neige sniffed as he tried to get control of his tears.

"Here."

Neige looked up to see a different small figure thrust toward him-a peace offering of sorts. The mud man didn't move, and it was goopy and sloppy, but when Neige looked up at his brother's face, all he saw was remorse.

Neige wiped the back of his hand against his nose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He reached out for the mud figure and gently touched its face.

"Thanks, Baro." He took the mud man into his own hands. He wondered if Baro had ever made his mud move as his snow friend had moved. Maybe, he thought, I will ask him one day.


	11. Swing

The fire crackled in his hand as he formed the shape—narrow in his grip, bulging out at its length. The heat from the flame was intense but not unbearable as he took a deep breath. He seemed to draw all of the energy from the dancing flames which had coalesced in his hands into his body. He felt it coil through his arms and chest. The energy traveled through him connecting him to the ground beneath where his feet were planted solidly. He risked a glance at his feet, checking their alignment, but a quick flash of mana gave a warning. His head snapped back up and his eyes narrowed in on the object which flew toward him. The small fireball had left his hand moments earlier and lurched through the air toward a target it would never hit. But then, hitting the target had never been the plan. The plan had been this. This feeling, this moment as the fireball whizzed back toward him. Steady, steady, he told himself as it came ever closer. The energy and anticipation coiled more tightly like a spring ready to release. And then it was time. His body rotated, his arms extended, the end of the club of flames dancing within his hands accelerated. And the fireball struck the bat. The ball flew off in the other direction as he completed the swing. He watched as it arched high through the air until it disappeared from sight. In the distance, he thought he heard a crash as if something had gone through a pane of glass followed by loud cursing.

"That was incredible, Mr. Magna!" Asta cried as he ran over to where he stood still clutching the rod of flames, still watching the sky.

A small smile turned up the corner of his lips.

Yeah, it was incredible indeed.

"Let's try again." Magna grinned as he summoned another fireball to toss at Asta. The younger man grinned and ran back to where he was, preparing to deflect a fireball back to his senior.

"Any time."

As the ball left his hand once more, Magna once again felt the energy needed for the swing building up inside him. His grinned widened with the joy he felt.


End file.
